Little Red Dress
by A Soldier Of My Own
Summary: She brought color back into his world. (Sledge x OC)
1. Red

A/N: You know what I like to do? I like to hate myself for choosing to write things. And here we go. I just…I don't know why I do the things I do. Ugh. This is a multi-part emotional fic thing that I dreamed up for some ungodly reason and it would not go away. It wasn't going to pan out the way it did, but well…there we go. The color thing was an accident, but then I went with it so…yeah. I hope you enjoy! Reviews are appreciated.

All color meanings are taken from: www dot color- wheel - pro dotcom slash color-meaning dot html.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

" _Red is the color of fire and blood, so it is associated with energy, war, danger, strength, power, determination as well as passion, desire, and love. Red is a very emotionally intense color. It enhances human metabolism, increases respiration rate, and raises blood pressure. In heraldry, red is used to indicate courage. Red is widely used to indicate danger. This color is also commonly associated with energy." – Color Meaning_

The party was in full swing when Eugene Sledge stepped through the door, but he didn't quite feel like joining in.

Men in military uniforms swung women in beautiful dresses across the dance floor at the masquerade dance. The flimsy masks on their faces did little to conceal their identities, and he caught sight of his friend Sid and Sid's fiancé, Mary twirling about with smiles on their faces.

Something inside Eugene's gut twisted painfully as he watched his friend.

None of this felt right.

Every time someone in a uniform danced or stepped by him, Eugene could only narrow his eyes in silence. There they were, dancing, drinking, enjoying themselves. What right did they have to do that, when so many other men never got the opportunity?

What made all of them special?

Or _him_ , for that matter?

Eugene watched the dancers for a few more moments, before he slid out the front door with a quiet sound of disgust. He passed couples who were laughing and talking, having a grand time at the party that he'd only come to because of Sidney. Eugene didn't stop for any of them, didn't spare them a glance as he walked into the cool night air, eager to escape the sights and the sounds of the partygoers and their elation.

He found himself leaning against a railing beside some steps, fiddling with his pipe as the sounds of the party faded away to a soft, muffled thrum.

The quiet was comforting, and so was the isolation. He didn't want to be around people; he didn't think he could handle that right now. He had a million questions rolling through his mind, questions he might never get the answer to.

Why him? Here he was, perfectly fine and intact after going through hell, trying to enjoy himself, to have a little fun. Why did he get to live his life and all those other men didn't? What was fair about that?

What was the point of the whole fucked up war to begin with?

Eugene sucked in a sharp breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose as nightmares and memories danced behind his eyelids as surely as the partygoers danced behind the doors of the house.

The soft sound of someone clearing their throat beside him made him jump, and his eyes shot open, body tensing as a woman he was unfamiliar with stood nervously in front of him, holding out a glass of what appeared to be punch.

"Hello," she greeted, and he could tell by her accent that she wasn't from around these parts; there was no lilting Southern drawl, no coyness in her speech that he was so used to hearing from the pretty Southern women who lived in Mobile. If he had to guess, he'd say she was from somewhere out West. But maybe that was just him generalizing plain spoken folks.

"Hello," he greeted back, quietly wishing she would leave him alone. He looked from her face to the punch in her hand, and slowly reached out to take it; his time in the Pacific hadn't erased _all_ of his good Southern manners and it would be rude to refuse her gesture. "Thank you."

"No problem."

She sipped her own drink, but didn't offer anything more, and he quietly waited for her to continue the conversation. But the silence between them stretched on as she stood, one arm folded under the other, glass held gingerly between pale fingers, until Eugene couldn't take it anymore.

"Did you…need somethin' from me?"

The woman looked startled by his question, and inclined her head towards him to fix him with a curious look. "Oh, no. Not at all. Were you _expecting_ me to?"

"Well, usually when a girl brings a guy a drink, they expect something in return. Conversation, a _name_ …?" He raised an eyebrow meaningfully, and she laughed gently; the laugh reminded him of something far away and forgotten, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"Sorry about that. I don't want anything from you, really. I just saw you slip out, and I thought you looked a little lonely. I noticed you didn't have a drink." She shrugged. "So I brought you one. If you like, I can take it back inside?" Her smile was brittle as she held out a hand, as if daring him to place his cup back in it.

"No, sorry," he informed her, holding it out of reach. "It's mine now. You can never have it back." They fell into another silence, and Gene swirled the punch around in his glass pensively. This was odd; was this what it was like to talk to women before the war? He didn't think he could remember.

"You were a soldier, weren't you?"

Her quiet question made him jump, and he fixed her with a narrow-eyed look, wondering what game she was playing with him. "Maybe."

"It's fine," she replied. "You don't have to tell me. But the way you look…the way you stand. Your face. You _were_ a soldier."

"What _about_ the way I stand? What _about_ my face?" he demanded, reaching a hand up to gently touch his own cheek as though it was the face of a stranger. Maybe it was, he decided.

"I've seen that look on a lot of men," the woman told him, moving carefully, cautiously, as she leaned against the opposite railing. "A lot of men in a lot of different places. You always look like you're seeing something that isn't there." She nodded towards the way he was standing, shoulders tense, fingers clenched around his cup. "And your stance; you look like you're expecting something to happen."

"Maybe I _am_ ," Eugene admitted, and the second the words were out, he wondered why he'd said them out loud.

"Nothing will happen to you over here, soldier. You're home and you're safe."

Her words didn't instill a lot of confidence in Eugene. And what did _she_ know, anyway? She'd never understand the sorts of things he'd seen, the things he'd done. She was another ignorant, flippant girl who couldn't possibly begin to know what war really was. He was reminded of the woman at the college, of her careless, stupid words, and he felt annoyance bubble up in his chest. "You don't know shit," he responded, surprised at how calm and even his voice was. "Beggin' your pardon."

"Oh, I've heard _that_ before too," the woman said, smiling despite the venom in his words. "But I know a _little_ bit."

"I doubt that; you should go inside and find some nice solider to dance with and leave me the hell alone. I don't feel like talkin' to someone who wants to play games with me."

She seemed genuinely surprised. "What makes you think I'm playing a game with you? If you think I'm lying, then maybe you should think again. I don't claim to know what you did, or where you were, but I can imagine the kinds of things you see when you close your eyes at night. I see them too sometimes." She caught the anger that flashed across his face. "Did you think you were the _only_ one who served in the war?"

Eugene blinked; the idea that this woman had also seen war honestly _hadn't_ occurred to him. War wasn't for women; it wasn't for men, either.

It was for the damned.

"I served in the Nurse Corps in Europe at an evacuation hospital. I'm certain that it doesn't compare to what _you_ did and saw but…Well, we've all got a little darkness inside us now that we'd like to pretend isn't there." She pushed away from the rail she was leaning against and smiled again, though Eugene noted that her smile was more reserved, a little pinched and strained. "Here; let me have your punch." She reached out with gentle fingers and pried the glass from his hands; he didn't even try to stop her, staring at her as if she was some sort of strange revelation. "It _clearly_ isn't strong enough for you right now. But do me a favor? Try to have a little fun and relax; you've earned it, even if you don't _think_ you have. Good night."

Nodding, she turned and started up the stairs, and Eugene saw Sidney step out of the door of the house in front of her, his eyes searching until they landed on him.

"Good night," he called quietly. Before she pressed through the mob of people, she canted her head and flashed him a playful wink, melting away into the crowd.

Sidney jogged up, carrying two glasses of punch. "I saw you makin' a break for it," he called, handing Eugene a glass. "I thought you could use some punch that was properly spiked."

"Thank you," Eugene nodded, absently accepting his drink. His eyes strayed back to where the woman had disappeared, listening to Sidney talk with only half of his attention.

Like him, she hadn't been wearing her uniform either, he realized, eyes dropping down to the crimson liquid swirling in his cup.

She'd been wearing a red dress.


	2. Green

A/N: Part two. More to come soon! Reviews are appreciated.

All color meanings are taken from: www dot color- wheel - pro dotcom slash color-meaning dot html.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

" _Green is the color of nature. It symbolizes growth, harmony, freshness, and fertility. Green has great healing power. It is the most restful color for the human eye; it can improve vision. Green suggests stability and endurance. Sometimes green denotes lack of experience; for example, a 'greenhorn' is a novice. In heraldry, green indicates growth and hope. Green, as opposed to red, means safety." – Color Meaning_

Eugene leaned against the tree, sunglasses shading him from the grueling rays of the Alabama sunlight.

The footsteps of his parents faded into the background, and in the distance, he heard the sound of the door closing behind them as they went back into the house. His mother and father were worried about him, worried about his idleness. His mother was picking, and she knew it, but his father had urged her to leave him be, and for that, he was marginally grateful.

His mother meant well, she really did. He hated to feel like he was somehow disappointing her, but his father was right; she had no idea what men like him had been through. And how could she? How could he ever talk about the things he'd seen and done?

He couldn't.

He probably never would.

It was best if he kept it all bottled up inside, best kept to himself. He would deal with his own problems in his own time; He wasn't being idle.

It would just take a while before he could work up to facing what he'd done.

Leaning back, Eugene heaved a sigh, his eyes closing as he listened to the songs of the birds and the sway of the leaves and branches. The trees creaked and groaned, and the grass was cool beneath him. Before he knew it, he found himself drifting off, and probably would have had a very nice nap if the sound of tires on dirt hadn't startled him awake.

He turned his head, catching sight of someone riding a bike up his driveway; whoever it was, they didn't seem to see him, and they stopped just near the gate, glancing at a piece of paper in their hand. It was a woman, he realized, noting the flowing skirt.

Something about her was familiar.

He waited until she had almost neared his resting spot before he called out to her, and she gave such a start, that she nearly dropped a package she was holding in her hands.

"My goodness," she muttered, though her smile told him she wasn't all that angry at being surprised. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." Her blue eyes were bright as she gazed down at him, and he made no effort to get up. "You live here?"

"No," he drawled. "Sometimes I camp out on their lawn and they just ignore me."

She seemed to be debating on whether or not he was pulling her leg, before she shrugged and settled down on the grass, folding her legs under him. He didn't recall inviting her to share his space, but she didn't seem inclined to leave anytime soon.

"You're very funny," she replied dryly, placing the parcel on her knees. "I take it you're taking my advice and trying to relax?"

"I was, before someone came along and started talkin' to me."

"Well, you are quite rude. I don't think you've got much of an excuse for _that_."

He suddenly felt a little bad for the way he was speaking to her; she'd been nothing but kind to him, and he had to admit, she was quite pretty. "Why are you here, exactly?" he asked, motioning to the parcel. "What is that?"

She glanced down at the paper wrapped package in her hands, and shrugged sheepishly. "Oh, I was delivering this. I'm working as a delivery girl for the post office. Or well, a temporary delivery girl. I'm really the front desk clerk, but it's been a slow day and I wanted to get out and stretch my legs. So here I am." She paused, and then added. "Nice glasses, by the way. They look good on you."

Genuinely surprised at the compliment, Eugene felt his face burn slightly at her words, and cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment. "Thanks. By the way, I never got your name…the other night, I mean. It would make talking to you a lot easier if I knew what to call you."

"I was _wondering_ when you'd ask."

"You weren't just going to tell me?"

"Well, usually when people make it clear that I'm not welcome, I don't volunteer my name. It makes it harder for them to track me down later to get revenge for ruining their evening."

"You didn't ruin my evening."

"Your face spoke volumes, sweetheart. I ruined _something_ : your evening, your alone time, your own thoughts, your brooding. You didn't seem happy. But if you can promise you won't send me an angry letter in the mail for intruding on your moment, then I guess I can tell you my name."

Eugene felt a smile—a true smile—curling over the edges of his lips. She was interesting, quirky, and different. She didn't seem too inclined to back away from his brusque manner of speaking to her, and she didn't seem like the type to be cowed easily; that was something he could respect. "Well?" he prompted.

"I'm Nina Pearson." She stuck out her hand for him to shake, and he reached forward and took it. It felt so small and fragile gripped in his own; he'd never really touched a woman before, except for the occasional dance or shot or check up, but those times were few and far between now. "Nice to meet you…?"

"Eugene Sledge. Likewise."

"Well," she quipped, clambering to her feet and brushing off her dress. "Can you maybe deliver this to…" She read the name on the package, before handing it over to him. "Mary Frank Sledge? I assume she's your sister? Mother?"

"Mother," Eugene agreed, taking the package and setting it next to him in the grass; he'd deliver that when he went inside. "Are you done for the day, Miss Nina?" 

"'Fraid not!" Nina chirped, sounding excited by the prospect of more work. "I've got some letters to help sort once I get back. Then I'll be free to go home. I did promise the head postman Mr. Grayson that I'd clean up the back room for him too, so maybe I won't be quite as free as I'd like." She shrugged, not seeming bothered by that. "How about you, Eugene? Anything of import to do today?"

"I'm doin' it," he replied, and when she grinned, he felt an answering smile once more tugging at his lips.

"Well, I won't keep you then. Have fun with…your relaxing."

"Wait!"

She had turned to go, dress swinging around her legs, but paused when he called out to her. The surprise on her face must have been mirrored by his own; he'd lifted one hand without meaning to, as if to draw her back to him, but quickly dropped it when she faced him. "Um…"

"Eugene," she intoned in a soft voice. "Did you need something?"

"I was wondering…if you weren't busy…would you…like to have lunch with me sometime?"

Nina blinked twice, very rapidly, before her surprise melted into an easy smile. "Sure! I'm free on Sunday. Why don't I meet you here, say…noon?"

"I could, uh, I could go pick ya up…"

"Nonsense," she waved him off. "I like riding my bike. It's nice to get out once in a while. So Sunday, noon. Sound good?" Eugene felt himself nod tentatively, and she gave him a thumbs up. "Perfect. I'll see you then. Have a good rest of the day, Eugene!"

He watched her stroll towards her bike, slapping up the kickstand with her shoe and waving once more, before she hopped on and started off. Eugene watched her until she was nothing more than a dot in the distance, and a faint grin quirked the corners of his lips up. He heard the front door open, distantly heard his mother and father whispering to one another as they approached, and then his mother's voice as she reached him.

"Eugene, dear, who was that?"

"No one really, mother," he responded, handing her the package without tearing his eyes from the road. "Just a friend."

Absently, he noted that Nina's dress had been the color of spring.


	3. Yellow

A/N: Part three. More to come soon! Reviews are appreciated. Thank you guys for your kind words!

All color meanings are taken from: www dot color- wheel - pro dotcom slash color-meaning dot html.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

" _Yellow is the color of sunshine. It's associated with joy, happiness, intellect, and energy. Yellow produces a warming effect, arouses cheerfulness, stimulates mental activity, and generates muscle energy. Yellow is often associated with food. In heraldry, yellow indicates honor and loyalty. Use yellow to evoke pleasant, cheerful feelings." – Color Meanings_

His mother tried to get him to wear a suit.

Eugene had stubbornly refused, choosing instead a plain white shirt and some brown pants with a belt. He had to fend off his mother's fussing the entire morning; once she'd discovered where he was going Sunday afternoon, she hadn't quit pestering him since. His brother Edwin had ribbed him good naturedly, and his father had smiled indulgently. Eugene knew they were all glad he seemed to be easing back into being 'normal' again, but despite what he was doing, he didn't _feel_ quite normal.

Ten minutes to noon found him leaning against the wall that bordered his parent's property, a long stem of grass held between his fingers and his eyes shut. His arms were folded behind his head, one ankle crossed over the other, and if he hadn't been standing, he might've appeared to be asleep.

When he heard the tell-tale crunch of dirt under bike tires, he opened his eyes to see Nina headed towards him on her little cruiser. She lifted a hand to wave in greeting, and he dropped the grass and pushed off of the wall to meet her just as she pulled up beside him.

"Afternoon," he greeted, the beginning of a smile worming its way onto his face.

"And to you too, Mr. Sledge." She indicated the basket hanging from her handlebars, and he took it quickly, draping it over his arm with a curious look. "I figured I'd bring lunch. It's easier than going all the way into town for food, or bothering anyone at your house to cook anything. This way, we can enjoy the outdoors and eat our meal. Does that sound good?"

Eugene glanced up into the sky; there were clouds just on the horizon, but there hadn't been any rain forecast, so he supposed a picnic outside would be an all right idea. It was better than being cooped up in some stuffy restaurant or his home with his mother and father buzzing around them and being a bother.

"Sure," he agreed, allowing her a moment to lean her bike against the wall of his property, before she returned to his side. "I know a pretty nice spot. Let's go."

He led her down the road and to one of the trails that branched off into the forest surrounding his home, knowing each twist and turn of the curving paths by heart. They soon reached a small clearing, surrounded by trees, where tall green grass and wildflowers swayed. "This okay?" he asked, gesturing to the glade.

Nina took a long, slow breath, eyes closed as she nodded. "It's wonderful, Eugene. We don't have anything quite this pretty back home; mostly, it's all fields and farms. Not a lot of nature left for anyone to enjoy unless you go out of your way to find it."

"Where _is_ home for you exactly?" he asked as Nina opened the basket and pulled out a small blanket she'd stuffed into the top. He watched her spread it out on the ground, before she plopped down unceremoniously and patted the spot next to her. He eased down beside her, setting the basket between them.

"I used to live in California," she explained. "Just a small town, nothing special. When I joined the Nurse Corp, I ended up in Georgia, and from there…" She shrugged. "I spent a while in England before they shipped up to France, and then Holland and Belgium, and Germany." Her fingers slowed and then stilled as they reached for things in the basket, and Eugene watched her hesitantly. "After the war I…I didn't really…want to go back home," she admitted softly. "I don't know why; I felt like I was different, changed, and maybe…I thought people would see that. I was afraid, I guess…Afraid of who I'd become, afraid of trying to be normal again."

Her hands quickly resumed their busy motion, pulling out food wrapped in cloths and napkins and setting it on the blanket. She didn't offer any more explanation, and Eugene didn't ask her for one; he understood what she was saying. Maybe if he'd been a different person, he would've left home too. But there was too much here for him to give up, too much to leave behind.

"It's not much," Nina told him, motioning to the sandwiches she'd made as she unwrapped them. "I'm not a five-star chef or anything. I figured we should keep it light and simple."

They did just that, and Eugene was glad of it. They didn't talk about the war, or about their feelings or thoughts. They spoke of friends, family, aspirations or lack thereof, and interests. He discovered that she thoroughly enjoyed her job as a front desk clerk at the post office, and that Mr. Grayson, the head post man, was the father of one of the women she'd served with in the corps, and had offered her a job when she'd come to visit and get away from it all. She'd taken it, and was glad of it. She spent her free time sewing her own dresses, and liked vibrant, bright colors. Black and browns, she'd said, were far too dull for _anyone_ to wear.

Eugene told her of his love of nature, of plants and birds and other animals. He'd told her what the difference between a Bullock's Oriole and a Baltimore Oriole was, and had even pointed out a red-winged blackbird that landed on a tree nearby. He'd picked one of the flowers that grew wild in the field, held it up to her with a smile, and told her it was a woodland sunflower, a common plant found all over Alabama. He'd placed it in her hair, over her ear, and she'd smiled at him in a way that made his heart swell.

They were folding the blanket and smoothing the grass they'd trampled when the first raindrops hit. Eugene straightened, blinking in surprise and looking up into the sky as the clouds from earlier all but blotted out the sun. Dropping his gaze, he locked eyes with Nina, who had been as startled as he was, and nearly dropped the blanket in her arms.

"Shit," he muttered, taking the blanket from her hands and unfolding it to use to keep the rain off of her. "Here, get under this."

Her hands on his stopped him, and he looked down at her curiously as she shook her head. "It's just a little rain, Eugene. It's fine." She took the blanket from him, refolding it and placing it back in the basket while he stood under the rain as it started getting heavier.

"But what about your clothes? Your hair?" he asked, wondering what kind of woman wouldn't care about those sorts of things; certainly none he knew.

"They'll dry." She draped the basket across her arm, before reaching out and tentatively taking his hand in hers. "Let's walk back. The rain doesn't bother me; does it bother _you_ , Eugene?"

Yes. It _did_. It reminded him of mud, and death, and digging a foxhole until his shovel hit bone and decay and the _stench_ …

He realized he must have been staring blindly, because when he blinked back into realization, Nina had placed one hand on his cheek and was gazing up at him worriedly. The rain had plastered her hair to her head, soaking through her dress. "Eugene," she whispered. "Come back to me. You're here, you're home. Nothing can hurt you here. You're okay."

Eugene felt himself reaching up, placing a hand over hers where it rested against the cool curve of his cheek.

"Come on," she informed him, lips quirking in a hesitant smile. "I bet I can beat you back to your house." She didn't even give him a chance to respond before she turned on her heel and took off, feet splashing in the muddy puddles and clearly enjoying herself; she didn't seem to care that she was being soaked, or that she looked like a mess. Her dress was splattered with mud, flowing around her calves like the petals of a hanging flower.

Eugene felt something inside of him shift, some sort of dark, coiled part of him slowly start to free itself as he started after her. A laugh wound its way from his lips as he squelched through mud and water and tried to forget the way it had mixed with the blood of the fallen on a lonely island in the Pacific. She raced ahead of him, looking over her shoulder to be sure he was following, and she seemed to glow like a beacon in the night.

Her dress was the color of sunshine.


	4. Blue

A/N: Eugene reminds me of a stale cinnamon roll, been in this world too long. So anyway, here's Wonderwall.

Oh geeze, no. Here's part four.

All color meanings are taken from: www dot color- wheel - pro dotcom slash color-meaning dot html.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

" _Blue is the color of the sky and sea. It is often associated with depth and stability. It symbolizes trust, loyalty, wisdom, confidence, intelligence, faith, truth, and heaven. Blue is considered beneficial to the mind and body. It slows human metabolism and produces a calming effect. Blue is strongly associated with tranquility and calmness. In heraldry, blue is used to symbolize piety and sincerity." – Color meanings_

Eugene and Nina were very careful about their tentative romance.

Neither pushed. Neither took without asking. But they both gave something of themselves freely.

They always talked lightly about things; they never really mentioned the war, what they'd done, or where they'd been. Occasionally, Nina would let slip some information about a place she'd gone to while in Europe, or Eugene would mention something someone had said in the Pacific, but they otherwise never spoke of their experiences.

They liked it that way.

Eugene's parents were delighted by Nina, and so were his brother and Sidney. They thought she was good for him, and many times, she was invited to dinner with the family as she slowly integrated herself into his life. Eugene didn't complain; he was able to spend more time with her, and she seemed content to do the same. If dinner ran late, she would stay the night in a guest bedroom, but always at the insistence of his mother, who refused to take no for an answer.

It was on one of these nights that his nightmares returned.

They hadn't been as frequent as they'd been when he'd first gotten home from the war, but they still came and went, and every time, he woke flailing and crying out for someone who wasn't there. This night was no different, and when his eyes snapped open to a dark, familiar room, he had to fight to calm his breathing, his body trembling and shaking as the sound of explosions and screams still sounded so fresh in his mind.

The soft whine of the door creaking open made him jump, and he tensed on the bed as what little light there was from the hallway filtered through into his room. He could just make out the silhouette of someone standing at the threshold—his mother, he assumed from the profile—and buried his face in his hands. "Go away," he ordered roughly, voice harsh and winded from crying out in his sleep.

When the person at the door didn't obey his command, but instead slipped quietly into the room, he lifted a furious face to scream at them to get out. Instead, he was met with the wide, shimmering eyes of Nina as she closed the door behind her with a soft click and crept towards his bed. She dropped down on the edge of it, not daring to touch him, and fiddled with her hands in her lap.

"You should go back to bed," he rasped, turning away from her and studiously ignoring the way the moonlight looked on her hair.

"I heard you."

Eugene froze, not daring to move or breath. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Eugene. Don't _ever_ apologize for what's been done to you." He felt her hand gently touch his bare upper arm, and he flinched hard. She immediately retracted her hand, and distantly, he missed her touch. "It's okay."

"It's not," he replied darkly, and this time it was Nina who flinched. "It's _not_ okay. What we did over there, what we saw, none of it was fucking _okay_." He tried to keep his voice down; the last thing he needed were his parents bursting into his room to see what was happening. "I've killed people. I've watched men being slaughtered. I-I…I'm alive, and they _aren't_. It ain't fair! How come I get to come home, how come _I_ get to live my life when all they get is a muddy grave and a country that doesn't seem to give two shits about them? Why me? Why did I survive? It's not right…It's not fair."

She didn't seem to have an answer for him, staring down at her lap and fiddling with her nightgown. The silence stretched between them, broken only by his harsh breathing as he tried to get himself back under control.

"I don't know."

Her soft voice made him jump. 

"I don't know why you survived, Eugene. I'm sure there's a reason, though. There's a reason for everything. I know it doesn't seem like it now, but in the future, someday, you'll understand. I didn't do the same things you did, but plenty of men…good, honest men died on my table while I held their hand or their _guts_ and they pleaded with me not to let them die. Why _them_? Why _you_? I don't know. But you can't blame yourself for being alive. Never, _ever_ blame yourself for surviving when someone else didn't. You can't think that you living is a bad thing; it's not. It never will be. You're a good man, Eugene. You'll find that person you left behind when you went to war again someday. Until then…I'll be here for you."

She leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to his. She seemed to sense he needed this—needed something, anything—to take his mind off of its inner turmoil. Eugene silently reached for her, pulled her against him, fingers grasping and exploring as she pressed herself to his body in the dark until only moonlight was left between them.

The nightgown she left on the floor was the color of the sky.


	5. Orange

A/N: Thank you for your reviews! I'm really glad people actually like my story. This is part five; two more parts after this and it's over.

All color meanings are taken from: www dot color- wheel - pro dotcom slash color-meaning dot html.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

" _Orange combines the energy of red and the happiness of yellow. It is associated with joy, sunshine, and the tropics. Orange represents enthusiasm, fascination, happiness, creativity, determination, attraction, success, encouragement, and stimulation. Orange increases oxygen supply to the brain, produces an invigorating effect, and stimulates mental activity. It is highly accepted among young people. In heraldry, orange is symbolic of strength and endurance." – Color meanings_

Nina was like a balm to his soul.

He didn't know if he loved her, but he cared for her quite a bit. He didn't know if he could love, but he was willing to try, because she was the sun that brightened his sky. She visited him daily, they ate together, spent time together, spent nights together. They were, for all intents and purposes, in a relationship.

Eugene didn't quite know what to make of that, but he accepted it for what it was. He'd never expected something like this when he'd come home from the war, but there it was, and here he was, watching her ride away on her bike after an early morning breakfast to head off to work, her brightly hued dress flowing around her legs as she pedaled.

She was beautiful. She was precious to him. She brought color back into a world that had been filled with nothing but gray. Maybe if things went well, he could ask her to marry him. Eugene smiled as he headed back into his house.

The smiles came so much _easier_ now.

His mother noticed the change in him; he moved freely, talked freely, did everything with a sort of weightlessness that she hadn't quite seen since before the war. Eugene's father had urged her not to comment on it, and so she kept silent, but it didn't stop the secret feeling of joy that bloomed in her chest every time her son smiled at her or offered to help her in the kitchen, like he had before he'd left.

When Nina came over the next day, Mary Frank quickly greeted her at the door.

"Eugene went into town for me, dear," she informed the girl, inviting her inside. "He'll be back soon. Why don't you help me in the kitchen? I'm making apple pie."

Nine had readily agreed, chopping apples dutifully as Mary kneaded the dough for the crust. The silence between the women was friendly and comfortable; they'd spent a lot of time together since Nina had first met Eugene, and Mary adored the girl immensely.

"You know, it's so wonderful to see how happy Eugene is," Mary commented idly, and she heard the knife pause, before it resumed it's distinct 'chop-chop' against the wood of the cutting board. "I had almost given up hope that I'd ever get my son back."

"I'm glad that Eugene is happier now," Nina commented quietly. "But I don't think you've gotten him back yet. There's still some ways to go before he's okay." When Mary turned to Nina with a wide-eyed, surprised look, she discovered the woman determinedly chopping, face shrouded by her hair. "He may never be the same man you knew before he left, but that's all right. What we do in life changes us, shapes us, and makes us who we are. It's the same for Eugene; his road was just a little tougher than most. He'll be okay though…someday."

Mary didn't have the words for that, so she pursed her lips and stayed silent, fingers expertly kneading as her mind mulled over the words Nina had spoken and tried to sort them out for herself.

The sound of the front door opening made Mary look up, though Nina kept chopping silently, as if already aware of who it was. Eugene stepped into the kitchen, a bag of groceries in one arm, and set them on the counter. "Mother," he greeted, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. "I gotcha what you wanted. Hope I didn't forget anything."

"It's fine, Gene. Nina, dear, why don't you go spend time with Eugene? I'll finish up here."

Nina did as she was asked, setting her knife down and crossing to Eugene's side. She smiled easily and leaned up to kiss his cheek. He returned the gesture, reaching out to take her hand and leading her from the kitchen.

Mary Frank watched them go, silently turning things over in her mind.

She liked Nina; she liked the girl more than she'd ever dare to admit, and she even hoped that she'd be part of the family. But there were some things the girl said, the way she moved or acted sometimes, that reminded her of the Eugene that had walked through the door with his uniform on, his eyes dark and his heart heavy.

Maybe she needed to stop thinking so hard about this, she decided. She should do something nice for Nina, something to say 'thank you' for all the girl had done for Eugene. Nina seemed to like pretty clothes, so maybe Mary could buy her a new dress. She was always wearing such brightly colored dresses when she came over.

Yes, a new dress sounded good.

Idly, Mary decided that it should _definitely_ be the color of the sunset.


	6. Black

A/N: Okay. So. Um. I hope you enjoy this chapter? One more, and the story is done.

All color meanings are taken from: www dot color- wheel - pro dotcom slash color-meaning dot html.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

" _Black is associated with power, elegance, formality, death, evil, and mystery._ _Black is a mysterious color associated with fear and the unknown. It usually has a negative connotation. Black denotes strength and authority; it is considered to be a very formal, elegant, and prestigious color. In heraldry, black is the symbol of grief." – Color meanings_

The day that Nina died was one that felt like it lasted an eternity.

Eugene didn't remember much about it, except that it never ended. She'd left his house on her bike, but she'd never made it home. She'd been hit by a drunk driver who hadn't been paying attention and had swerved right when he should have gone left.

They told him it was instant.

He'd seen enough of death to know that didn't mean much.

Everything had seemed a little darker after that. His mother had been crying, he knew that, and his father had wrapped him in a hug he hadn't quite felt. His brother and Sidney had been at his side, and even the postmaster, Mr. Grayson, had left condolences. None of it meant anything, because none of it _felt_ like anything. There was only emptiness again. There was only loneliness again.

The funeral was brief.

It was raining.

Eugene _hated_ the rain.

He'd worn a black suit, had stood in the downpour even as the rest of the mourners had shielded themselves with umbrellas. He'd let it soak through his clothes, into his skin, and the cold seeped into his bones, even though he didn't quite feel it. The preacher droned on and on about God and love and how she would be missed, and Eugene hated him for it; what did _he_ know?

What did _God_ know?

Nina was gone, he reminded himself as they lowered the casket into the earth. She was gone, and there was _nothing_ he could do to bring her back. The light she'd brought into his life was faded and dim now, and even after everyone had left, quietly begging him to go with them, he remained.

The rain mixed with his tears—mixed like the blood and the mud and the decay on an island in the Pacific so far away, so long ago.

Eugene cried; he cried like he hadn't since he'd returned home, his grief washing over and pouring out of him until he couldn't stand. He found himself on his knees over the freshly turned earth, dirt staining his pants, fingers scrabbling at the mud. He didn't know what he was doing, but he was suddenly digging, as if he was trying to reach her underneath all the soil that she'd sunken into. As though he would find her, and bring her back.

The pair of hands that gently eased him away from the mud belonged to Sidney—he dimly recognized the voice of his friend as he soothed and whispered to him, pulling him from the grave.

"It's okay, Eugene. It's okay…Come on, let's get you home."

Eugene didn't fight him as Sidney led him away to the car, rain still beating down on him and trying to drag him down with it. He wanted to scream, to tell him that it was _not_ okay, that it would never _be_ okay.

All he could see now was her face as they'd closed the casket, how peaceful and serene she'd looked. He could have sworn she was smiling as he'd laid a woodland sunflower over her folded hands and kissed her cold, pale cheek one last time. He would never forget her, never forget the person she was or the way she'd smiled and laughed and kissed him and held him to her at night.

Vaguely, he realized that they'd made a mistake when they'd dressed her for the viewing. They'd put her in the wrong dress, one that had no color. Nina loved color, the same way she loved life. But she hadn't been buried in one of her beloved, brightly hued dresses.

She'd been buried in black.


	7. White

A/N: Last chapter! Sorry for taking so long; I was on vacation in Nevada, and I just got a job as a pre-kindergarten teacher. I am super excited!

All color meanings are taken from: www dot color- wheel - pro dotcom slash color-meaning dot html.

This is done purely for fun; I mean absolutely no offense by any of it! I hope no one is offended. I have nothing but the utmost respect for these men.

8888

" _W_ _hite is associated with light, goodness, innocence, purity, and virginity. It is considered to be the color of perfection. White means safety, purity, and cleanliness. As opposed to black, [it] usually has a positive connotation. White can represent a successful beginning. In heraldry, [it] depicts faith and purity…angels are usually imagined wearing white." – Color meaning_

Nearly four years after Nina's death, Eugene was living his life to the fullest as best he could.

He'd moved on, enrolling in the Alabama Polytechnic Institute, and was only a few weeks away from graduating with a Bachelor of Science. After his father had mentioned that bird watching would be a good alternative to hunting, and he'd turned his passion for birds into less of a hobby, and more of a job. Currently, he was working with the conservation department on banding birds for research and study, a topic he was fascinated with.

His studies in the scientific field kept his mind occupied, kept his thoughts at bay and tied up. The only time he ever let them reach him was at night, when memories of screaming friends, and blood, and a bright red dress sent him bolting from his nightmares with a scream in a cold, cold sweat.

Sometimes, on days like these when he went into town and let the hustle and bustle of the people around him become something of an entertaining sport, he imagined that he could still see Nina everywhere he went. Her memory teased and tempted him, always at the edge of his mind, still as fresh as the day he'd met her.

She was the woman on the corner, selling flowers to passerby. She was the lady who was paying for a bagel at the bakery, or the woman in the bright yellow sundress who was laughing and smiling as she walked down the street with her friends.

Every time he thought he saw her though, she would vanish, and he was left with nothing more than an aching, empty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Eugene now sat outside a small café, newspaper in hand and sunglasses on his face, sipping idly at his coffee. The newspaper wasn't really of interest; he hadn't read much of it. Mostly, it was a buffer to keep others from trying to start conversations with him. The café was crowded, full of smiling, carefree civilians who had no idea of the thoughts or memories that flashed behind the eyes of the man who sat unassumingly in their midst.

He liked being unobtrusive and he liked blending in; it kept people from asking him questions that he didn't _want_ to entertain.

Nina never asked him questions. She was just there for him, whenever he looked or asked or reached for her. She was there. That was all he ever asked, all he ever wanted.

But she wasn't here now.

Not anymore.

A soft throat clearing in front of his table caught his attention, and he jerked his head up, dropping the paper in his hands to see a woman standing in front of him. For a second, he nearly did a double take as he swore he saw Nina in her face, in the way she wrinkled her nose and blinked rapidly and watched him with a steady gaze. But when he blinked, it was gone, and the woman was gazing at him nervously, wringing her hands in front of her.

"Um, excuse me, sir…Would you mind if I took a seat here? I won't bother you, honest. But everywhere else is full and…well, I only have an hour lunch, and I don't want to waste it trying to find a seat. Would that be all right?"

"Sure," Eugene agreed slowly, indicating the seat across from him. He reached out and scooted his coffee cup closer to make room for her. "Go ahead."

Her face crumpled with relief, and she immediately sat down, flagging over a waiter and putting in an order. Eugene went back to his paper, studiously ignoring the woman who sat across from him.

"My name is Jeanne, by the way," she greeted. "Thanks for letting me sit with you."

He dropped the paper again, and when he looked at the woman, _really_ looked at her, he had to admit that there was a softness in her face that was appealing. She looked like the kind of person you could tell anything to, someone you could trust with all of your secrets, and who wouldn't judge you one lick for any of them. "I'm Eugene. Eugene Sledge. Nice to meet you. So you're on lunch? If you don't mind me asking, why did you ask to sit here, again?" There were some other empty seats at tables with other men or women; surely she hadn't missed _those._ Why _his_ table?

"Oh, yes, I am," she agreed, looking up as the waiter returned with a cup of coffee and two cookies. She thanked him and took one from the plate, sliding the other towards him. "I wasn't kidding when I said I had a limited lunch but…I thought you looked a little lonely."

Her words made something flip in his stomach. "A cookie?"

She blushed prettily, nibbling on her own treat. "I noticed you didn't have any food." She shrugged, looking embarrassed. "So I bought you one. If don't want it, I can eat it. It's, um, no problem."

Eugene stared at her for a few moments from behind his dark glasses, watching as she looked anywhere but at him. Her cheeks were dusted a faint pink, and she was chewing on her cookie to keep from having to face him. A slow, careful smile spread across his face as he reached out and took the offered treat, holding it aloft. "No, sorry," he informed her, inspecting the cookie. "It's mine now. You can never have it back."

When she smiled at him, Eugene felt something shift back into place, something that had been missing for a _very_ long time.

Over Jeanne's shoulder, he could have sworn he saw a woman in a nurse's uniform smiling at him and shooting him a thumb's up. When he blinked in surprise, the woman shrugged a shoulder flippantly and turned to leave. He caught the shine in her eyes as she moved away, pale skirt billowing around her legs like a swaying flower. Before she pressed through the mob of people, she canted her head and flashed him a playful wink, melting away into the crowd.

Eugene put his paper down and held the cookie tightly in his hand as he turned back to Jeanne, knowing who it was he'd just seen. He could still hear her words echoing in the back of his mind:

" _You'll find that person you left behind when you went to war again someday. Until then…I'll be here for you."_

She was gone now, but she'd done what she promised; she'd been there for him. Eugene smiled to himself and at the place where the nurse had disappeared, knowing what it had meant.

She'd been wearing white.

8888

A/N: So, all finished. What did ya think? Let me know! I love you guys and your reviews!


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